


I Must Think Things Through

by Glowstar826



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Angry Sirius Black, Beaches, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Compliant, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Roller Coaster, Escape, Gen, IWSC | The International Wizarding Schools Championship Writing Challenge, Missing Scene, POV First Person, POV Sirius Black, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Reflection, Sad Sirius Black, Self-Reflection, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black as Padfoot, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowstar826/pseuds/Glowstar826
Summary: Sirius, freshly escaped from Azkaban, struggles to find his footing in a new environment.
Kudos: 5





	I Must Think Things Through

**Author's Note:**

> **Rated T for swearing, religious expletives, and an indirect mention of the male private area.**
> 
> **Thank you so much to my beta, Hucklebarry!**

I gasp for air as I get closer and closer to the English shore. My arms and legs feel extremely sore from the amount of time I spent swimming here. I bless whatever gods are out there as my hands finally touch the wet sand. It was a hell of a long journey, but I made it somehow. I actually made it.

"Fucking finally," I mutter to myself as I shakily stand up, examining the torn, sodding garments on my arms. I only realize that I have fallen over when I hear a _crunch_ in my teeth. Spitting out sand, I prop myself up again. Once I get off this beach, the first thing I'll need to do is wash up. The problem is that I don't know where the hell I am to begin with or _how_ I'll get washed up. Unfortunately, my wand's at the Ministry. Otherwise, I'd be clean already. Scouring charms do have their uses.

Running a hand through my tangled hair, I stand up again and hobble like an old man to a large tree I saw upon my arrival. Leaning against the tree trunk, I run a hand over my face. I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do, and I can't really pick and choose my route like I would've been able to twelve years ago.

Merlin, had it really been twelve _years_?

God, I just hope that Harry's all right. If only I hadn't gone after Peter….

I punch the ground in frustration. _Why_ did I have to go after him? Why couldn't I have just taken Harry that night and dashed out of there? I didn't have to listen to Hagrid. Hell, I didn't even have to listen to Dumbledore! Harry was _my_ godson! He was _my_ responsibility! Not Dumbledore's. But I failed Harry. I failed him. What would James think of me now if he saw me like this? Knowing him, he would've tried to clear my name as best as he could. He would've fought for my innocence. He would've even gone as far as to provide the Ministry and Dumbledore evidence in the form of a memory if it ever came to it. But he and Lily are gone now, and it's all my fucking FAULT! I should've trusted Remus. I should've suggested him as the Secret Keeper. Instead, I decided to pick Peter.

I chose a worthless, spineless, talentless traitor.

I run a hand over my beard. I laugh mirthlessly as I realize it's half the size of Dumbledore's. I don't need to look to see that my hair is much longer; it's almost up to my elbows. Maybe I can donate my hair or something. I heard that Muggles do that for people who go bald.

Sighing, I lean my head back against the tree as one of my hands finds and pulls on a chunk of grass. I will never understand why the Ministry never gave a trial when it was due, but I guess they deemed me a madman before I was even thrown in the Ministry cell. I _was_ laughing like one at the time I was arrested. Other than that, my years at Azkaban were a blur.

Throughout my stay, I found that I could fend off the dementors by focusing all my thoughts on my innocence. It was the one thing that the dementors couldn't take away from me. Sometimes, I wonder if it was right of James to pick me as the godfather. I sometimes feel like Remus would've been a much better fit. Knowing him, he wouldn't have gone after Peter. He was much too sensible for that, unlike me.

Goddamn it! James would've done better to have chosen Remus, for fuck's sake! Why _me_? Why was _I_ chosen to be Harry's godfather? Why couldn't he have chosen Remus? _Why_ did he have to make such a _fucked-up choice_? Now, don't get me wrong. I was over the moon at Harry's baptizing. When I held little Harry in my arms, it was like nothing else mattered. No _one_ else mattered. It was just me and him, my cool gray eyes staring into Lily's emerald green. I remember Remus was there with happy, indiscrete tears rolling down his cheeks. The little traitorous rat was standing next to him with a warm smile I eventually learned to not trust. We went back with James and Lily to celebrate. We ate delicious food and played Exploding Snap. We reminisced about old times. But I also remember talking to James later after Lily had taken Harry up and Remus and Peter went home. I asked him why he didn't choose Remus for obvious reasons, and James responded by giving me a funny look as he poured two glasses of Ogden's.

"Are you fucking around with me?" I remember James asking me confusedly. "Why _wouldn't_ I choose you? That's probably the most asinine question I've ever heard in my life. You all right, Sirius?" At that, I looked up, for he never called me by my name unless he needed to talk about something that didn't warrant any light-hearted jokes to be made.

It was the only time in my life I remember feeling insecure. I answered him by mentioning my lack of responsibility and my desire to not have children. At that, James laughed heartily and clapped me on the shoulder, telling me that everything would be fine and that he trusted me with his, Lily's, and Harry's lives. Those very words soon came back to bite me in Azkaban as the dementors passed by, and as each day came and went, I wanted to bash my skull till it was broken and bloody in those grimy walls just to make those awful thoughts go away. James had _trusted_ me, and I ended up failing them. All of them.

I hold my hand on the tree and use it to help me stand up. This is when I notice that it's raining, and I instinctively start shivering. I wrap my arms around myself in a futile effort to invigorate some warmth into what's left of my muscles as I limp across the field. That's when I remember I can Apparate, and I resist the urge to slap myself for my stupidity. Loosening my limbs, I close my eyes and try to bring a picture of a place in my mind, any picture which won't get me sent back, any picture of an area that's safe, any picture, any picture, any picture, _any picture_ —

I pivot around, bracing myself for the inevitable tug at my navel and the lack of air and space, but nothing happens. This makes me feel very confused. Well, I guess I haven't Apparated in a while. I'm sure it's just a false start.

Exhaling and loosening my limbs again, I bring up another picture in my mind and attempt to try again. Before it can fully materialize in my head, though, it goes away, and my mind goes completely blank.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?!" I yell to the sky as I open my eyes again, wincing a bit as a particularly fast-coming raindrop hits me right in the eye. Surely, I haven't forgotten how to Apparate, have I? No, that's impossible. It's _impossible_! I can't have forgotten how to fucking _Apparate_! It's so simple! Just dream up a place, think long and hard about it, and pivot! It's not that hard to do!

I groan as I grab my long, limp hair in frustration, starting to truly lament my current situation. Feeling furious, I impulsively kick the ground, regretting it as soon as my bare foot hits a rock.

"GODDAMN IT!" I scream out, clutching my foot in agony.

"Ah, fuck, ah, fuck, ah, fuck," I continue, muttering the phrase over and over under my breath like a mantra, falling to the ground as I try to breathe and brave out the immense pain in my now-throbbing toe. I suddenly feel embarrassed as tears start rolling down my face.

Merlin, I've turned into a pathetic _charity_ case!

Goddamn it.

Shaking my head, I look up and spy a small pond where I can wash up. I smile slightly as I limp over there and strip off, jumping into the water as soon as my junk is exposed to the air.

I immediately regret my decision (once again) as my naked body turns to ice. I swear to Merlin _and_ God that the temperature today is worse than Siberia on a bad day. I dunk my head in the water and scrub my head with my fingertips, trying my hardest to get the grime out of my scalp. I'll never admit that my hair is currently worse than Snivellus's out loud, but it is. I suddenly want to vomit as I feel little bugs crawl from my hair onto my hand, getting an urge to just rip all the hair on my head off, but I know I can't. I don't have anything sharp.

After I finish washing up, I get out of the pond and wait in the cold air to dry off. Then, I quickly put on my rags again and limp back to the tree. Once I get there, I slump down and place my head in my hands.

I realize that I really do need to think things over. Otherwise, I'll never be able to kill Peter, and I'll never be able to see Harry.

We can't have that, now, can we?

Sighing, I focus my gaze on my lined, scarred palms. I find at least ten stray scars on my arms. I make a face as I examine the dirt under my nails. God, what have I _become_? I mean, I never really cared what others thought, but I did have rather good looks. For crying out loud, I had problems with girls throwing themselves at me because of them! My hair, which used to be naturally windswept, thick, and soft, is now rough, tangled, and thin.

I start to feel utterly powerless and defeated as I clench my fists in fury. Why did I even escape Azkaban in the first place? I don't know how to build a fire! I don't know which plants are edible or not! Fuck, I don't even know the first thing about surviving in the wild! My Animagus form can't keep me for long; sooner or later, I'll need to take a break. I'll need to take a rest and be human for a while before I can turn back.

"Breathe, Sirius, breathe," I say, willing myself to calm down and clear my head, but it doesn't work. That rat's face keeps on showing itself in my brain, and I get angrier.

" _Breathe_ ," I say again to myself, emphasizing the word in an attempt to remind myself of the importance behind it. "Calm down."

I gradually start feeling lighter in my chest as my breathing becomes more rhythmic and regular. My fists loosen, and I unclench the toes that I subconsciously used to grip the wet blades of grass under my feet. The tension in my arms and legs lightens. The first hints of relaxation start to enter my veins, and I can't help but grin at my success.

"That's it," I tell myself in encouragement. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…."

I close my eyes as I find the calm I'm looking for wash over me. Even amidst the cold weather, I feel warm. I finally feel like I have some semblance of control.

"Right. Now, you've got to come up with a plan," I instruct myself, and I rub my hands together in anticipation for the onslaught of ideas I intend to let run rampant through my mind. I understand now that it's not the time to worry about my looks, the state of my face, or the fact that I can't fucking Apparate. All I need to do is find Peter and end his sorry life.

The best part about all this is that I know _exactly_ where to find him.

When I was given the latest issue of the _Daily_ _Prophet_ back in Azkaban, I thought nothing of it until I saw the rat perched on the youngest Weasley boy's shoulder. As I looked closer, I realized that the rat was missing a toe. That was what made me want to break out in the first place. The idea of finally committing the crime I was sentenced for filled me with a thrilling hunger that I hadn't felt since I pranked Snivellus all those years ago. The resolve I felt right then to kill Peter was so great that it was probably what helped me to turn into my Animagus form and escape that depressing prison unnoticed.

When I pull myself back to the present, I feel a wicked smile growing on my face. I steady myself against the tree and crack my knuckles after slowly standing up. Mimicking the action of dusting off my shoulders, I summon the will to turn into Padfoot. He'll be much needed if I want to reach my end goal.

As I feel my line of vision gradually lowering and the usual black fur growing from my body, I smirk in anticipation for what's to come.

It'll be a long while before I get to Hogwarts and find the rat, but I know that if my will is strong enough, the trip there will be that much easier. Once I figure out where the hell in England I am, I'll be able to formulate a plan and map out a route. But, at the moment, it's not important. All I need to do right now is to focus on surviving. Something I learned quite a long while ago was that survival is key. Without my survival, nothing will be achieved. As I break into a light jog across the unfamiliar field, I start mulling in my thoughts, finding immense pleasure at the fact that Peter won't know what's coming for him until it's too late.


End file.
